


Apologies

by InchByInch



Category: Homeland
Genre: 6.3, F/M, hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 17:00:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10035338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InchByInch/pseuds/InchByInch
Summary: A conversation that could never happen in cannon.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vannigoggi](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=vannigoggi).



He knew it was happening again, but somehow that knowledge didn’t help at all. Everything still seemed fucking real. He heard Dream Sandy scream for help, tried to save Dream Carrie, and watched as she threw herself out into the maelstrom of anger, intent on making her doomed effort to save Sandy, all the while yelling out abuses at Quinn. 

Then, weirdly, it was him she was trying to save. He was the one getting beaten by the crowd and she was hurling herself into certain death to help him, even as she screamed that he was a fucking useless sack of shit. He tried to tell Carrie to get back to the relative safety of the car, but he couldn’t find the right words. Then the blows to his head worsened and he couldn’t breathe because his lungs filled with gas and his mouth filled with his own vomit.

Things changed again, and his mouth wasn’t full. He was screaming like an animal, and Carrie was holding him. God, he wasn’t in Islamabad or Berlin, he was in his basement, her basement, and she was there.

“Shh, shh, Quinn. It’s OK, it’s a nightmare. You’re safe in my house. Everything is OK.”

“Fuck.”

He was gasping for breath like a fish. What the hell was she doing here? She shouldn’t see him like this. Fuck, would the humiliations never end? He wanted to push her away, but he wanted her comfort more. He closed his eyes, nestled into her hair and concentrated on breathing. 

Breathe in. Breathe out. Don’t think. Just focus on each breath. Just. be.

God, her smell. The feel of her so close. Maybe he was still dreaming, she hadn’t held him like this since…had she ever? For a moment, he thought he might…but then suddenly he panicked and backed away from the embrace. Blinking in confusion, he backed up against the wall and brought his good knee up to his chin.

“Leave me the fuck alone, Carrie.”

“Fuck you, Quinn. You’re acting like a 12-year old, afraid for a girl to see you cry.” She pulled her own knees up into a similar ball and sat facing him. 

He glared at Carrie with all the venom he could muster, but as usual, she seemed unimpressed and continued her attack.

“It’s ridiculous after all we’ve been through. I heard you screaming my name and Sandy’s. You think I don’t have those nightmares? I’d give anything to have you comfort me when I wake up.”

Quinn had no idea how to respond to that. As usual, Carrie had flummoxed him. “Fuck.” He gave up and let his head go limp burying his face in his knee as he continued to even out his breathing. 

“Because you were there. You can tell anyone else in the world that you’re so tough and it doesn’t bother you, but I was there, too. What the fuck do you think you have to prove to me?”

“Just fuck off, Carrie,” muffled, his face still turned downward, shutting her out. “I couldn’t have gotten both of you out.”

Carrie’s entire demeanor changed. “Jesus, I don’t think that…. Fuck, Quinn, I’m sorry.” Carrie seemed momentarily silenced – maybe by an effort to fight off tears? “I was a total idiot then. I know we all three would have gotten killed if you hadn’t acted as you did. You saved me. I never should have let you think I didn’t know that.”

He tilted his head up so that his chin rested on his knees as he regarded her stonily. 

“I was a mess, remember?” She went on. “I seduced poor Ayan and then I tried to kill Saul. You stopped me. You saved me – so many ways. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself. I was a disaster.”

“Hmph…You’ve changed.”

“Yeah.”

“How?”

“How? Fuck, Quinn. I lost you. I lost my dad. I lost Saul. I lost my faith in the CIA. And then, my mom… I pretty much lost everyone and every idea I had about myself, all at once. I had to figure out everything again from scratch, right after you left, and at that point I was really trying to take care of Frannie. Caring for a baby didn’t work too well with the whole ‘selfish bitch’ thing I had going on.”

Quinn grunted a laugh at that. “You’re different, now…Me, too.” Trying to convince himself.

“Yeah, well, I’m still the same person. I just tend to make different choices, mostly because of what’s happened, what I’ve been through. So, I can’t forget all that or pretend it was someone else. I don’t want to.” 

“I do… I want to forget all of it.” Lost every idea I ever had about myself. That sounded about right. No memories would help him, though. And he certainly didn’t have anyone who needed him. Time for a different tack. “You dream about Sandy?”

“Sometimes. Mostly my nightmares are about getting kidnapped. I hate that feeling of being powerless. And of course, the idea of being tortured or killed.”

“Yeah, that sucks.” Quinn agreed. He thought about getting hit on the head and waking in the truck outside of Prishtina, the long drive back to Berlin, and the 24 hours he had to wait, knowing the death his captors had planned. Carrie had been abducted by Javahni’s goons, but also before, during that whole clusterfuck with Fanklin. And maybe there were other times he didn’t know about.

“I did that to you, in Berlin. Fuck, Carrie, I don’t even remember what I was thinking. I was in a such a bad place.” He sat up and straighter and met her eyes. He was increasingly aware of how intimate they were, in his bed.

“No shit you were.” She sighed. “Someday you should tell me what the hell happened in Syria.”

He snorted. “No… But, Carrie, I really am sorry for kidnapping you. And Jonas’s kid.”

“Well, I’m sorry I left you with Jonas instead of staying with you myself.”

“Fucking Jonas. I was a cold bastard the entire time in Berlin. Sorry.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t find you after you ran away.”

“I’m sorry I headed back to Syria instead of staying in Berlin to help you. Really sorry.”

“I’m sorry for shooting you in the woods.”

“You should be sorry for fucking that up. Next time, take a head shot, Carrie. Don’t shoot like a fucking girl.”

“I was proud of that shot! And I’m certainly not sorry I missed your head.”

“Well, I’m not sorry for shooting you back in Virginia. Someone else could have really hurt you.”

“Yeah, like it didn’t hurt at all when you clipped my arm. But, I am sorry for dragging you back to Islamabad. You were ready to get out.”

“I’m not sorry. You needed me there.”

“I was too obsessed with getting Haqqani, I shut out everything else. I think I was just fucking angry that he tricked me into killing his family. And for Sandy. Maybe some other things, too.”

“Haqqani was a fucker. Is.”

“I’m not sorry I stopped you from killing him – you’d have been killed, too. But I do wish things could have been different.”

“Yeah, I was really pissed. But also… Sorry you were dealing with my shit when you should have been dealing with your dad.”

“I’ve never been so happy to see anyone.”

“I’m sorry I pressured you in the middle of all that. I’m really sorry I took off right after.”

“Twenty-four fucking hours, you couldn’t have given me that much time? But I fucked that up, too. You opened yourself up to me, and all I thought about were my own issues. So, I’m sorry. Really fucking sorry.”

He laughed. “This is never going to end.”

“…I slept with Jonas while you were in the coma.”

“What?”

“We broke up, right after.”

“I take it back, then. I’m not sorry I took his kid. I hope he was fucking terrified – Jonas, I mean, not the kid. Motherfucker… that kid. I really was in a bad place.”

“Jonas was just… It was awful of me. I’m sorry.”

Quinn reached out to hold her hand. “I got blow jobs from prostitutes twice while I was living at the VA.”

“You’re a shit.” She pulled her hand back.

“I’m sorry. I also smoked crack.”

“You’re an idiot. I never should have left you at that VA for so long.” She closed her eyes, she couldn’t look at him. 

“I’m really sorry we woke you up. That’s what caused the stroke, you know.”

His voice deepened. “That part I do know, Carrie, and I’d be pissed if you hadn’t.” He reached out and cupped her cheek in his hand and she met his gaze. “I mean it, Carrie, you didn’t even have a choice. My problems are not your fault. It’s your guilt that keeps you with me. You should let it go.”

“Is that what you think? Really?”

“Isn’t it?” He brought his hand back and they both stared at each other intently.

“Fuck you, Quinn. No. I mean, I do feel guilty. I am guilty. But that isn’t why I’m here with you, though all this…It wasn’t just losing you, Quinn, after Islamabad. It was everything you said to me, that night after Dad’s funeral. It didn’t make sense. I couldn’t believe that you wanted me after everything that had happened, everything that I did. You had faith in me, and that made me think that I could be …better. Hell, I wouldn’t even have kept Frannie if it hadn’t been for you. You know that’s true. But you thought I could be a good mother, and knowing that gave me the courage to try – to try to be better in a lot of ways, even though you were gone… so that you would be proud of me. And my dad, too, of course. He also believed in me, and expected more of me, even though I had left Frannie. And fuck my mom. None of it was easy, either. You were just…gone. I don't want to lose you again.” Her face twisted with emotion and she pushed her forehead onto her knees.

“Hey.” Quinn reached out and slid his hand under her cheek. “Carrie, I’m fucking in awe of you. You do good work. You’re a good mother. You’ve taken great care of me. I am sorry you don’t obsess about bad guys anymore, because you were fucking good at it. But you’ve made a good trade. I mean with your work and taking caring of Frannie, not with obsessing about me.”

Carrie opened her mouth to respond, but she was interrupted by Frannie’s voice floating down from the stairs. “Mommy?”

Carrie jumped up and disappeared into the hall, leaving Quinn to reflect on what the hell had just happened. Was that a conversation? Did they really just apologize to each other for so many regrets? One brief hug seemed to have had a significant impact on their dynamic.

Carrie returned, all business. “Listen, I’ve got to go…Shit, my phone…Do you want me to call Max?”

Again with the humiliation. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Fine. Then take your fucking Premidone. I get home with Frannie at 5:00. I’ll see you then…Hi Redda…”

Off she went, completely engaged in her new conversation. 

Quinn thought again about how it had felt to hold Carrie so close. He hated having her care for him, but that moment, feeling her concern physically, had felt wonderful. He had almost reached his hand under her shirt, and the more he thought about it, the more he regretted his decision to pull back. Missed opportunity. Carrie totally would have gone for it. They could have had a much more satisfying interaction.

**Author's Note:**

> Therapy - because they are really apologizing to me. I know they never will to each other.


End file.
